“Do you think you’ll like it?” “Oh, I don’t know!” she said, with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “How can I tell? It’s impossible to get into their lives, and know what they’re really thinking.” “I didn’t ask you that,” Port remarked, nettled. “You should have. That’s what’s important here.” “Not at all,” he said. “Not for me. I feel that this town, this river, this sky, all belong to me as much as to them.” She felt like saying: “Well, you’re crazy,” but she confined herself to: “How strange.”
